Tracie

I made a reference to the pre-existent Tracie a few posts ago, and I didn't quite get my fill of the idea.
So here's another self evaluation; I'm going to set goals for this summer and hopefully, within a few months, I'm a little bit closer to that little lady I'm intended to become.

I have the enormous blessing of being young, independent (not really, but for dignity's sake, just run with it), and full of big ideas. The greatest piece of advice I've ever received says that I must reach for things that bring me to heights of honor that I am "most capable of achieving". Pretty fortune cookie-esque, I know.

I am easily overwhelmed with options. I always get Twist in my Kong Cone so I don't have to miss out on the chocolate or vanilla. Sadly, life isn't as generous as Macey's, and I'm given the next sixty years to decide on flavors that I'm supposed to enjoy for eternity. A friend and I were discussing how despite this being the greatest age in our lives, it's the most critical time. What we do now determines the rest of our lives. I see this, and instantly, my feet sweat. My tummy drains and I feel like melting into the folds of my bed and never allowing any cleaner to lift me from my sheets. Not even a toothbrush with carpet cleaner, which can do pretty much anything, luckily for my white carpet. But it's how it is. So we're all playing the hot and cold game with Heavenly Father, tripping over things and reaching for different corners, waiting for a sharp rap on our hands or a shout of encouragement. Good thing it's a fun game, or I'd sit out.

I'm three years into college. And I still don't know where the world wants me. That'll give you a nice tummy full of anxiety ridden ulcers, each with individual scrunched foreheads. And once I figure out where I'll fit best, I need to get there. I'm not too worried about that part, though, because once I have a list written down in front of me, I take too much pleasure in scribbling out things to not finish it. So I just need to patient, and live life with open eyes, hearts, and ears, ready to hear, "Warmer! Trace, you're getting hotter! Sprint!"

You readers also need to patient as I slowly work through each piece of information that makes it into my brain, slowly stew about it for days, blog about it, wait for comments on it, and finally do it. Sorry, millions of viewers. I know it's frustrating to watch idiots open doors in horror movies, but it's gotta happen if we're to get our terror fancies tickled.

One day, I'll be 60 years old, have millions of gorgeous, brilliant children, grandchildren, great grandchildren, have a garden, teach piano lessons, spend all day outside, and the windows down when I'm inside, a book club, and date nights with my sweetheart.
I can't wait to have a piece of Heaven on Earth in my home with my family. And we'll fill it with screams about laundry, spitting in chocolate milk, overdue homework, and broken bones.
Til then, let's just listen to this song on repeat, yeah?
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=D9AFMVMl9qE

Random post. I like to blog, I guess.